Just Another Day

I was at a 24x7 Convenience Store one evening, browsing through their collection of exotic dry fruits. I noticed a little bedraggled girl wearing a vest and knickers, with tousled hair ambling into the store chirpily. She picked up a loaf of bread and went toward the checkout counter. She was not tall enough to reach the top of the counter, and somehow managed to toss the loaf on it. Then she reached into the little pockets of her knickers and fetched out loose change. She handed it all to the cashier, who was indulgently waiting for her. He counted the change and billed the loaf. I had been watching her all this while, and as she turned to go I asked her what would she eat the bread with. She said that her mother had made tea and they would have the bread with tea. I wanted her to stay so I talked to her a little more. She told me she lived across the street somewhere and she had a little brother. I asked her if she wanted to eat something else. Her face lit up and she ran towards a shelf of snacks. She took a minute to decide and picked out a couple of bags of salted munchies. I added a couple of bars of chocolate to it and got it billed with my dry fruits. The little girl pranced out of the store happily and I watched her go. So often, we let the simple things pass by.

Teething Problems

We have all heard about how little things in world can have a sizeable impact on the bigger things. The most common tale that was narrated to us, as children, was of an ant that got into an elephant's eye - or ear was it? - created havoc and continued to do so until the elephant began to weep or soemthing to that effect.

The point is that you cannot really understand the true essence of the aforementioned story until you have had a tiny bit of a corn pericarp lodged between your bicuspid and molar; and to add to it - obviously taking advantage of the glazed nest created thus - a piece of coarse ground black pepper. For a while you are not going to feel anything, because your mouth has not paid attention to the infiltration but in due course of time the aliens will begin to garner attention and you will witness the first sign of rebel - the swelling of your gums. You try to figure out what is causing that persistent pain with the help of your tongue. When that proves futile, and it is time for your night time oral care - the premise has been established with the belief that you ARE an oral hygiene maniac - you try your floss stick and the 9/10 dentists' approved Oral-B brush without any luck. By the way, so far you are not even aware what is stuck in your jaw. You can feel something, but you cannot see it. It almost feels like you have developed a strange cavity. Now did that appear overnight? You could not have ignored it that long, or could you have?

Having tried almost everything conceivable you think it may be a bruise from brushing a little hard earlier. Even though you are sure that did not happen, but that seems to be the only explanation besides the probable cavity. One last inspection before you give up and you see it! Jutting out at the in-side of the jaw. You run to fetch your last resort - the toothpick - and begin to maneuver. It is not easy, remember. Not too many things can get past an experienced hand. The toothpick never has and does not disappoint. The miscreants are out and your swollen gums are suddenly relieved. You are left with slightly numb lower jaw, but are even  more relieved than your gums. Firstly , it is not easy to cast suspicious clouds over your oral hygiene routine, and to top it with the thoughts of having developed a cavity is just the worst nightmare! Again, for someone who fits the presumption of the established premise.

Leave Psmith to Me

For a genius is born one among a millions. For a masterpiece is created once in ages. And a masterpiece is not a masterpiece if it is not celebrated. Yes that is my excuse for buying a new copy of Leave It to Psmith (the first one still being intact).

There are not too many books that I would read more than once let alone procure multiple copies of; primarily because of the endless 'to-read' list and the serious shortage of time these days. But I would not mind making an exception for Leave It to Psmith. It is one of my favourite Wodehouse books. I think it would tie with Ring for Jeeves. It is okay, I am not picking. I am really bad at it anyway.

So coming back to the Old Etonian Rupert Psmith, dapper, eloquent, Leftist and charmer with a flair for words. The title in question is the best amongst the ones where Psmith makes an appearance. Not a mainstream Wodehouse character, yet one you cannot help but fall in love with. Amidst the typical Wodehouse setting - millions of characters, numerous parallel stories, various schemes and plots which eventually converge neatly into one grand finale - Psmith keeps the spotlight exclusively on him all through, and justifiably so. For a character like Psmith comes straight from the house of the lord - no pun intended!

Right from why is his name spelled with a 'P' to his acute hatred for fish, there is an interesting tale in every aspect of Psmith's being. He comes with his own kitty of whims and is rather spontaneous - falling in love, taking rowing trips on the lake or hurling flower pots, he does it all! But that is not all that Psmith is about. He is this slender monocled whimsical sharp guy who I have admired since I was a teen and do not see any reason why that is ever going to change. Wodehouse has crafted Psmith with the devotion of an accomplished artiste and given the world a diamond. And like a diamond Psmith, too, will last forever.

#JustMusing

When Talking Does You Good

Whereas it is true that self imposed solitary confinement allows my mind to explore uninhibited limits and lets my creativity flow freely, I have recently come to believe that - at times - some good can come out of interacting with people in general. I had always toyed with the notion, and sometimes allowed it to linger for more than a couple of seconds but was never convinced of it until I happened to have a rather mentally stimulating conversation with a couple. Other than the fact that we had received an equal number of years' of education we had very little in common. To start with, the education we had received was imparted to us in completely different eras and geographies, we were in different fields of work and we belonged to different age bands. It was in this apparently mismatched and dysfunctional group that I had the aforementioned epiphany.

The discussion began with the common courteous enquiries about each other's work and personal life in general, gradually panning out to superficial discomforts and comforts each one of us faced. Absolute random things were then picked up to evade an awkward silence, given that the popular topics of conversation had been used up. What had begun as an attempt to keep the talk-fest going became a rich confabulation which started with cattle insurance leading us to ponder why the Jersey cow is a superior breed, and why it finds it hard to survive in India. Logically we discussed common diseases affecting cattle. From there we went on to micro financing and credit life policies. There was a brief literary discussion on authors and research dissertations reaching religious scriptures and commonalities between different religions of the world. There may have been a sprinkling of political affairs, driver's licenses, commuting, weather and things that have left my memory. The point of all this recollection is that I came back home tired with all the talking - it was a couple of days' worth for me - but happy that I was able to hold it up with the myriad and rather quick switches in topics. Just made realise how much I know, and more importantly how much I remember. One of those rare occasions where personal human interaction did not make me want to weep.
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If you read Mary, marry, Marie and merry just the same you must demand a refund from your school.

#TweetingThis

The Happy Song

This one ought to cheer you up!
#MidweekCrisis

http://gaana.com/song/happy-grus-theme-from-despicable-me-2
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Do Butlers Burgle Banks? by P.G. Wodehouse

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Do Butlers Burgle Banks is a stand alone narrative - not being a part of any of Wodehouse's series. The style of narration is the author's typical - flawless language and inimitable humour - and is a quick read. The story unfolds in the manner of a blooming flower and unravels rapidly thereon. The characters were crafted meticulously as was the author's wont. The plot gradually lands into a hilarious imbroglio as the story reaches a crescendo, taking the reader along all the way. The style is Wodehouse's classic, the story telling is what we're used to from the author, but beats me how it still stands out. Has to be the genius. If you're a Wodehouse fan you'll love it; if you're not a Wodehouse fan, well, become one!

Not Wodehouse's best, but a pleasant read. Recommended.

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I have been pondering over something for a while now. Nothing groundbreaking, but has me intrigued nonetheless. Does it make any sense to wish "Happy birthday" to somebody who no longer has his or her bodily abode in the mortal world? Isn't that thoughtless and ironic? (Or do you want to say ironical? It is ironic, by the way.) It makes sense when one wants to acknowledge the day when a certain somebody who held a position of eminence in one's life graced the world. People dole out charity in some form and/or conduct prayers in the memory of the departed. If it was a renowned person, you will probably have the news channels running some typical obituary bytes as well. That is not a guarantee though. News channels are whimsical, with a will of their own. Anyway, commemorating birthdays of the deceased is one thing - it is only natural to miss one's loved ones and there is no harm in spreading good cheer in their remembrance. But wishing them "Happy birthday" is something beyond my cognition. Besides being insensitive, it is also foolish; almost akin to mocking. A few days back I came across a feed on my Facebook account that irked me no end, and hence the outburst. It went like this, "Happy b'day Steve Jobs...you did well enough man". I am sure Steve Jobs was thrilled. This is the day he died to see.

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